


there's no sense in going over and over the same things as before

by Kavi Leighanna (kleighanna)



Category: Conviction (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, S01E01 episode tag, post ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/pseuds/Kavi%20Leighanna
Summary: Conner's not quite done with Hayes. (Post-episode tag for 1x01)





	

**Author's Note:**

> _**This does not account for anything after 1x01_ AKA: the insanity that was 1x03, WHO ELSE IS SCREAMING. 
> 
> Title from what I understand is [ Jed Madela's "The Past"](http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/j/jed_madela/the_past.html)
> 
> I should also note this has been the most superficially beta-ed. Probably not even that. So, yanno.

_ Go do your job.  _

 

She does, is the thing. She goes back and she does her job and does what she does best: numbs herself to the emotion, ignores the anger of a grieving mother and gets it right. 

And then she goes back. 

He is, for all intents and purposes, right where she left him, cocky and sure behind his fancy desk with a soft pride around him she doesn’t understand and is emotionally incapable of touching. He smirks at her a little. “I told you you’d be good at this.” 

“And I told you I’m dangerous,” she answers and can’t help the way she stalks towards him and the desk. “I’m coming after your cases, too.” 

“I’d expect nothing less.” 

She hates how calm he is about it, how relaxed he is leaning back in his chair. Every piece of his body language is telling her he doesn’t see her as a threat. Part of her is thrilled. Part of her adores when she’s underestimated, some quiet screw up that needs to be manipulated into the right thing. The other part of her is  _ pissed _ . 

There’s a hum in the air, buzzing beneath her skin, coalescing in a ball of tension right between her shoulderblades. She resists the urge to roll her shoulders, to try and shake off whatever it is that’s making everything itch. “You’re not scared?” 

Conner shifts in his seat, almost arrogant. “That’s not the first thing that comes to mind.” 

The shiver drills hot and fast down her spine; her face stays neutral. There’s no need to show him how hungry she is to tear him apart. “Press charges on the cocaine, and I’ll reveal that you blackmailed me into taking this job.” He doesn’t look surprised. Not even close. She hates when he sees her moves before she makes them. She hates being  _ handled _ . “How’s that for a happy ending?” 

“THe arrangement was made with your mother. You can’t expose it without-”

“Exposing her,” Hayes finishes, unable to stop the smugness from slipping into her voice. “I know.” She lets that sink in, just how far she’s willing to go here. She’s always been good at getting her way. “You can’t control me anymore. And neither can she.” 

She takes the last few steps to his desk, plans her hands on it and leans in. His eyes focus on her and shutter in faked confusion. Not fear. No real emotion. 

“What do you want?” he asks and she hates the mocking tone of it, the way it feels like he’s patronizing her, like she’s somehow missed a key part of this plot between Conner and her mother to keep her in line. They should know better. They should know her better.  _ He  _ should know her better. 

“To right the wrongs,” she says, low and silky. This powerplay, this manipulation, is right up her alley and there’s no version of the world where she’s ashamed to use it. “To fight the power to stick it to the man.” 

Conner doesn’t take his eyes off hers, piercing and considering but something a little disappointed around the edges. She wants to roll her eyes. Disappointment and guilt haven’t affected her in years and he, of all people, should know that. The ball of… something in her gut notwithstanding. She doesn’t have time for the way her internal organs have decided to take up gymnastics. 

“Why be the fox guarding the henhouse when I can be the wolf who mauls the fox and anyone else who gets in her way?” 

She sees the shift in his eyes, feels the triumph race through her and offers a victorious tilt of her lips. “See you around, Wallace.” 

She pushes off the desk to make her exit, on top of the world and determined, riding high on winning and getting the last word. 

“Hayes.” 

The smirk spreads slowly across her face and her blood hums. She’ll ignore him and walk out anyway, double her sense of dominance. She scoops up her coat and tosses her hair, takes a few steps towards the door. 

His hand beats hers to the doorknob. 

She freezes, reflex rather than reaction. She can feel the long line of him just over her shoulder, towering over her, even in heels. The tension in her back pulls just a little tighter, makes her skin itch in anticipation. It should probably be her first clue, the first indicator that she should shove him back and leave. Instead, her breath catches and she watches, fixated, as those long fingers flip the lock. 

The sound echoes in her ears louder than it should and she goes breathless with it, turning as his hand falls away. The tension between her shoulders goes tighter, the hum grows louder and she knows she feeds on it. It makes her want to bite, to snap at him, mock him for what he thinks this is. 

Except then he’s leaning down and for a moment, she thinks the world has slowed down, that she’s seeing this in slow motion. She’s not. He’s moving so slow, taking his time, gauging her reaction. 

She doesn’t move. 

His mouth is soft at first, tempting and tentative. He brushes his mouth over her lower lip once, twice, and Hayes thinks she’ll never be quite sure who makes that last miniscule shift, but when they do, when they move so their mouths meet properly, she pushes into him and the tension, the crackle, snaps. 

_ Oh _ . 

Conner catches her - of course he does - and pushes back against her. Her purse and coat hit the ground at the same time her back hits the door and the noise it forces from her throat should be embarrassing. Hayes isn’t even sure it’s come out of her mouth. She’s too busy shoving into him, trying to make him move, to get control back. 

She doesn’t get it. 

He pins her to the door, stronger and leaner, even now, so many years later when her life has been anything but a breeze and he’s sitting here in his cushy office with the eyes that tell her he wants everything they’d had and probably a hell of a lot more. It makes her start, pull back, and if it weren’t for the hand he’d slipped into her hair she’d probably knock her head against the door. Hard. Instead, he takes half a step back, the heat still in his gaze but with a reluctance now. 

“I-” she starts, but he’s already dropping his hands from her body, already stepping back. It strikes her again, how well he knows her, how well he reads her. She swallows around the lump forming in her throat. This isn’t good. Not for either of them. 

“I can’t.” 

It comes out as a hoarse whisper and she watches him shove his hands in his pockets, like if he doesn’t he’ll reach for her again and they both know doing so would mean she wouldn’t leave that office. Not for a while. 

He looks down at his shoes, rocks a little and chews her lip in a way that is so, so tempting. Then he’s stepping forward again and she holds her breath straining towards him and clinging to control with equal measure. 

He flips the lock open. 

She looks up, breathes out, shaky. 

“You will.” 

For a split second he’s reaching for her again, pushing her back, pushing into her. She remembers it from all those years ago, how explosive they can be. But that’s a memory, a time that was less complicated than everything now, the deal hanging over their heads, the secrets. 

She’s embarrassingly clumsy when she leans down for her coat, for her purse and makes her escape. She’s not sure she really breathes until she hits the car, yanks the door open and throws herself inside. Everything is back tight in her chest, the memories, the emotions… 

The ending. 

She takes a deep breath, then another one, then a third for good luck. She can’t do this, to him or herself. She’d been telling the truth. 

_ Go do your job _ . 

She takes another deep breath, shoves those emotions down again, and starts the car. With one last deep breath she throws it in drive and for once in her life does what she’s told:

She goes to do her job. 

**Author's Note:**

> NO SERIOUSLY, who else is screaming? You should do so in a comment or over with me on [Tumblr](http://kavileighanna.tumblr.com)


End file.
